


Like We Used To

by celeste9



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Casual Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Friends With Benefits, Gay For You, M/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy's not gay, but he thinks he might be a little bit gay for his best friend. He's pretty sure that makes him a cliche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like We Used To

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smallfandomfest for this prompt from cynicalshoes: 'Tommy thought their occasional drunken, stress-releasing, no-strings-attached nights together would continue now that Oliver had returned from the dead. Not that he's got his heart set on it or anything.' The title is from Unfinished Business by Mumford & Sons.

Oliver came back different. Tommy tried not to think about it, tried not to let it affect how things were between them, but it was true. Oliver came back different.

Tommy liked to think he knew Oliver better than anyone. He knew how Oliver talked, how he thought, how he moved.

This Oliver, though, this Oliver who came back from the dead, this Oliver was something else. Harder, maybe, full of rough edges. An Oliver with secrets he wouldn’t even share with Tommy, an Oliver who acted like he was the same but that’s what it was - an act. An Oliver who put on a show to make everyone think he was the same when he wasn’t.

Tommy knew he wasn’t the same at all.

-

Oliver was drunk.

That wasn’t new. Sometimes Tommy thought he and Oliver had spent more of their time together drunk than sober.

What was new was the hard-edged glint in Oliver’s eyes when he slammed down an empty shot. What was new was the way he flirted with the pretty girls so deliberately, like it was something he had to think about, something he thought he should do. What was new was the way Oliver always seemed to be pretending to be drunker than he actually was. What was new was the way Oliver held himself so tightly, like a coiled spring, like he was just… waiting.

“You look like one of those soldiers,” Tommy said, setting his own empty glass down on the table. “You know, those wind-up ones? Like you’re just waiting for someone to wind you up and get you going and then _boom._ Watch out. _”_

Okay. Tommy might have been drunk, too.

“Feel like that sometimes,” Oliver said, little more than a mumble, his eyes half-lidded as he spun his shot glass between his fingers.

Tommy blinked at him, thinking that that was probably important, that was something he should pay attention to, that was… That was way too much thinking for the amount of booze he’d had tonight. “Ollie,” Tommy said, reaching over to clench his fingers in Oliver’s shirt.

Oliver just looked at him, his eyes slightly glazed over. His gaze drifted down to Tommy’s fingers and then back up. He stepped backwards and Tommy released his grip. “I need my bed,” he said, turning away and weaving through the crowd.

Tommy stared after him, watching Oliver walk perfectly steadily, one foot in front of the other, and not with the deliberateness of someone who knew they were drunk. Like someone who hadn’t been all that drunk in the first place.

“See you,” he said, too late, into the pounding music.

-

The thing was, Oliver and Tommy used to fuck sometimes. Not all the time, just when they were drunk and no one else was available. Stress relief, basically, and there was really no comparing being with another person to being stuck with your own hand.

So, right. They used to help each other out. As friends do.

Except that Tommy didn’t think Oliver was into it anymore. Which was fine, right, Tommy didn’t care. But Tommy wasn’t the one who hadn’t been laid in five years.

Oliver hadn’t slept with anyone since he came back. Tommy would know. He also knew how Oliver got when he wasn’t having sex, wound too tight and irritable and that was why they’d started their little arrangement in the first place. That was what Tommy told himself, anyway.

Tommy wasn’t sleeping with anyone anymore either, not since Laurel had dumped his ass. He thought it should be easy, go to a club and find some pretty girl to lose himself in, but somehow he always ended up migrating back to Oliver and getting pathetically drunk together.

So, really, just like old times, except with fewer women and more clothing.

When Tommy crawled into his bed, smelling like sweat and with the taste of tequila still on his tongue, he jerked himself off with his own hand in the darkness. As he drifted off into sleep, he didn’t let himself think about how it hadn’t been Laurel he’d been picturing in his head.

-

The other thing about Oliver was he came back from that island _ripped._ Not that Tommy noticed, or anything, but you could just see the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, the way he filled out his clothes like he hadn’t before.

So Tommy felt he was justified in saying, “You came back built like a superhero. Sure there wasn’t a gym on that island?”

“No gym. Also no five star restaurants, cars, or basic amenities.”

“That’d do it.” Tommy reached out and ran his hand up Oliver’s arm, squeezing around his biceps. “Still, though, your arms are _ridiculous._ ”

Oliver’s eyes had dropped to Tommy’s hand, making it seem awkward when it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t be awkward, right? “I swam a lot.”

It was awkward. Tommy let his hand fall away. “No HBO either, I guess.”

“I think they got that on the other side of the island.”

Tommy chuckled and then turned when he heard the sound of someone approaching.

Diggle stopped in place beside Oliver and nodded his head at Tommy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Merlyn. I’m sorry to interrupt but Mr. Queen, I think it’s time for your appointment.”

Oliver made this little shrugging gesture at Tommy, like, oops, sorry, this is way more important than you but I completely forgot about it until just now anyway, so sorry, man! “Oh, right, thanks, Dig. Sorry, Tommy, I’ve got this thing, for my mom.”

Tommy didn’t remember Oliver lying this much before the island. Or at least, he didn’t remember Oliver lying this much to _him._ “That’s cool, I’ll see you later then.”

“Sure,” Oliver said and left with Diggle.

Tommy found himself wondering whether Oliver was getting his rocks off with his bodyguard. That would explain a lot.

Maybe Tommy should take up weightlifting.

-

Tommy wasn’t sure how he ended up with his head in Oliver’s lap in a cab, but it probably had something to do with tequila. Usually when Tommy didn’t know how he’d gotten somewhere it was because of tequila. At least he still had all of his clothes.

Or maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, actually.

Anyway, Oliver’s lap was warm, and his hand felt nice in Tommy’s hair, and this was probably the closest they’d been since Oliver had come back. The closest Oliver had let them be.

It was nice. It felt comfortable and familiar and like things weren’t actually completely weird now, like Oliver hadn’t come back an entirely different person, like they were still just Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen, hot young playboys hitting the town, best friends who sometimes gave each other orgasms for fun. Oliver kept running his hand back and forth over Tommy’s scalp in a soothing manner. Tommy kind of wanted to purr like a cat because it felt so amazing and he couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing Oliver’s hands felt in other places.

Tommy wasn’t gay. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he was totally cool with it, people could fuck who they wanted as far as Tommy was concerned. He just wasn’t. Gay, that is. Oliver was the only guy he’d ever been with and he’d never particularly wanted to expand his horizons in that way.

He didn’t look at men like that. Tommy liked women, he liked the way they smelled and their soft skin and their hair. He liked the way their curves felt against his body and underneath his hands. He liked the way a pretty girl looked in heels and a short skirt and he liked a good pair of breasts as much as much as the next guy. Maybe more.

Oliver was just… Oliver. He was different and Tommy liked being with him. But Tommy wasn’t gay. He didn’t even think he was bi, because he figured he would have noticed other men besides Oliver if he were bi. Maybe he was just gay for Oliver. That was a cliché, wasn’t it? That made Tommy a cliché.

He was way too drunk for this shit. He groaned a little and rubbed his cheek on Oliver’s thigh.

Oliver’s hand was still moving through Tommy’s hair. “You are so completely wasted. Someone should have cut you off; your friends suck.”

“Didn’t even get me laid.”

“You should fire your wingman.”

“Nah, just… out of practice. I’ll put you on pro-- prob--” Fuck, words were hard. “Give you another chance, right? Then we’ll see how you do.”

“Re-evaluate my behavior to see if I’ve made any progress.”

“Yeah, that,” Tommy agreed. Evaluate. That was the word.

Oliver was smart. He was way smarter than anyone had ever given him credit for, including Oliver himself. Maybe that was how Oliver had survived so long, because he was smart, he was smart and resourceful and somehow he’d stayed alive for five damn years on a deserted island only to return home buffer than a buff thing.

Because it was crazy, right? Oliver had been _dead._ And then he wasn’t. He was just magically appearing in Starling City and he wouldn’t talk about what had happened, he was just _there,_ and he wasn’t dead, he was this new person who’d been through God knows what and he wouldn’t even tell Tommy. Tommy, who was supposed to be Oliver’ s best friend.

“How’d you do it?” he muttered.

“Do what, Tommy?”

“How’d you _do_ it?” Tommy repeated, because he still couldn’t seem to quite get the hang of words.

Oliver was silent and Tommy thought maybe he didn’t understand, because nothing was the same, they weren’t on the same page like they used to be before, they weren’t Oliver and Tommy like they always had been, they were just slightly off and Tommy _hated_ it, he hated it and -

It took Tommy’s brain a second to register that Oliver was talking. “You’d be surprised what you can do when it’s your life in the balance,” Oliver said quietly and then he was opening the door and pulling Tommy out of the cab.

Tommy sort of collapsed in a semi-boneless sprawl against Oliver and let Oliver manhandle him all the way to his bed. If he took the opportunity to get his hands all over Oliver’s truly impressive new muscles, well, he was drunk and couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.

Oliver dumped Tommy into bed and it felt just like the million and one times they’d done this before, one or both of them completely hammered after a night of partying. Tommy tried not to think about what they’d do, sometimes, when they were alone, but it was hard not to with Oliver leaning over him, so close. Oliver didn’t smell like a woman but he always smelled good anyway.

“In case you hurl,” Oliver said, dragging over the trashcan from beside the desk. He disappeared for a minute, returning with a tall glass of water and a couple of pills that Tommy’s hazy mind guessed must be ibuprofen or something similar.

Even though it was only basic post-drinking binge stuff, Tommy couldn’t stop thinking of Oliver on that island, Oliver knowing how to take care of himself when by all rights he shouldn’t have lasted a week without people waiting on his every whim. “I don’t think I would’ve made it,” Tommy said, his voice slurring. “If it’d been me. ’m not like you.”

There was something strange about Oliver’s expression. “That’s not true.”

Tommy shifted underneath the sheet Oliver had pulled up over him. “I’d kill a plant, if I had a plant to take care of.”

“I’ll remember not to get you one for your birthday,” Oliver said, his lips curving upwards faintly even as that strangeness lingered in his eyes. It made Tommy want to kiss him, want to kiss it all away.

“Ollie,” Tommy said, his fingers brushing Oliver’s jaw. He didn’t even remember telling his hand to do that.

Oliver gently moved Tommy’s hand, setting it down on the bed. “Not tonight, Tommy,” he said, kissing the corner of Tommy’s mouth before leaving.

Tommy closed his eyes. “Not ever, you mean,” he said to himself.

-

In the morning, Tommy had a hell of a hangover and the night was pretty much one big blur. He remembered being with Oliver in the way that you remember a dream the morning after, like tiny snippets of images and emotions and the more you think about it the more it all slips away.

He thought maybe it had been important.

-

“Alone again,” Tommy said, sprawling against the back of the couch. “Think we must be losing our touch.”

“That’s assuming you ever had one,” Oliver teased, sitting at the opposite end with one leg folded up and his forearm draped over his knee. “At least I didn’t have to carry you in this time.”

“It’s cruel to bring up things I only half-remember.”

Oliver smiled, and it almost reached his eyes, like the old Oliver’s genuine smiles. “It’d be a short list, then.”

“Like you’re one to talk, king of drunkenly passing out in my bed.”

As soon as the words passed Tommy’s lips he was sorry he’d said them, because now all he could think about was Oliver in Tommy’s bed, Oliver spread out on the sheets and what they used to do.

So he really shouldn’t have said what he said next. “A few years ago this would’ve been a prime night for half-remembered drunk sex. No girls, the two of us drunk enough to be bored and horny and lacking judgment but not so drunk we can’t get it up.”

Oliver’s face was unreadable and wasn’t that a bitch? It used to be that Tommy always could tell what Oliver was thinking. “I guess so.”

“Do you even remember what we used to do?” Tommy asked, frustrated. He got to his feet and stood in front of Oliver, like somehow that would force Oliver to listen, to say something real. “Do you have selective amnesia or something; did you hit your head too many times on that island? Because I--”

“I remember,” Oliver interrupted. “Of course I remember. I just don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

Probably it was crazy to laugh, but Tommy couldn’t help himself. “It was never a good idea, but it’s not like that stopped us.”

“Maybe things are different now. Maybe I’m different.”

“Yeah, you sure as hell are. You don’t-- Is it some kind of PTSD thing? Like you don’t want to be with people because, I don’t know, you were alone so long? Because I would understand, I would, I just wish you’d trust me enough to tell me.”

An almost pained expression flickered across Oliver’s face before he schooled his features back into something cool and collected. “I trust you, Tommy. I guess I’m just not that interested in the whole casual sex thing anymore. It doesn’t seem that important.”

Tommy knew it was stupid, but all he could hear was Oliver saying, _you’re not important, I don’t need you anymore._ It was stupid and reading too much into it, things that probably weren’t there, but Tommy couldn’t stop thinking it. He glanced away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Okay, fine. No sex. Whatever. It isn’t like it ever meant anything.”

“Tommy, please,” Oliver was saying, standing up and then laying his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and looking at him, so concerned, like Tommy was breaking or some shit. “I know it was… I don’t know, you and me, it was blowing off steam, but you always meant something to me. I mean, it wasn’t like it was with Laurel, but it wasn’t like a random hook-up, either. Not to me.”

It felt like forever that Tommy stood there like an idiot, getting his mind blown, trying to process what Oliver was saying. He and Oliver had spent years getting each other off and then playing like it had never happened until they did it again, all ‘hey, just two bros lending a helping hand!’ And now Oliver was saying that it hadn’t been that at all. He didn’t know exactly what Oliver was saying it had been, but he was at least saying it hadn’t been what they’d been pretending all along.

“So…” Tommy swallowed and licked his lips. “Um, so, right. I’m, uh…” He couldn’t think of anything to say and he didn’t know what to do, and Oliver was simply _there,_ right there with his hand still on Tommy’s shoulder and that concern in his eyes.

It seemed but the work of a moment to turn himself slightly so he could lean up and kiss Oliver, so Tommy did. He pressed his mouth to Oliver’s and had long enough to realize just how much he’d missed this before it registered that Oliver wasn’t kissing him back.

Tommy stepped back. “Okay, awkward.”

Oliver looked faintly stricken. “I’m sorry, but--”

“Yeah, but. It’s always but something with you. But I have this thing I need to do, but I’m expected here, but you’re too drunk, but, but, but. Remember how I used to be your best friend, Oliver?”

“You’re still my best friend.” Oliver took a step closer to Tommy again and Tommy tried to move back but his legs hit the coffee table.

“Am I? Because sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

There was something so closed-off about Oliver and Tommy hated it, he hated it so much and he hated that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Oliver was keeping secrets from him and that clearly wasn’t going to change anytime soon. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing! Just talk to me!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Tommy counted to five under his breath because otherwise he was going to punch Oliver and that would probably result in him breaking his hand on Oliver’s face. “What do you want to say?”

“What happened with Laurel?”

Tommy blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. He felt he had the right to make a snide comeback referencing the fact that Oliver was trying to get Tommy to spill his guts even though Oliver himself still hadn’t said anything useful, but maybe he was a pussy because he answered anyway. “Nothing, honestly. We had sex sometimes and then we made a go of it and then she dumped me.”

“Did you love her?”

Did he love her? That was a hell of a thing to ask. “Hell if I know. She was… Laurel’s great, you know? Of course you know. She’s smart and beautiful and she cares so damn much about everyone, and she even gave a schmuck like me a shot.”

Oliver’s smile was a tad self-deprecating. “She’s a good one for lost causes.”

“Tell me about it. I tried to make it work with her, I did, but she was… I don’t know. I think I was fooling myself to think I ever had a shot at something real with her.”

“Laurel was too good for both of us,” Oliver said, something sad and wistful and a little bit lonely in his voice.

Tommy wished Oliver would let him do something about that loneliness. “Yeah, I guess. Something we have in common.”

“So what do you think that makes us?”

Oliver’s eyes were so blue. Obviously Tommy had always known that, but he didn’t think he’d truly noticed before. Now he couldn’t stop looking and there was something about Oliver’s face and…

Oh, shit.

Tommy had been lying to himself if he’d ever thought he’d be fine never sleeping with Oliver again, if he’d ever told himself that sex with Oliver was just sex, just meaningless, drunken sex. He was gay for his best friend. Like, really gay.

A peal of laughter burst out of him. “I don’t know about you, but I think that makes me Tommy Merlyn, the walking cliché.”

Oliver just looked confused, his eyebrows drawing together. He looked kind of adorable, actually, and it was weird to think that about another dude, to think that about _Oliver,_ but it was what it was and really, Tommy had to kiss him. Needed to, he really did.

And, you know, he could probably add glutton for punishment to his list of descriptors.

So Tommy cupped the back of Oliver’s neck with his hand and leaned in. Oliver, surprisingly enough, went with it, not for long but long enough for Tommy to feel the warmth of his mouth and the softness of his lips, for it to be good, so good.

Then Oliver pulled back. “I don’t think I’m good for anyone right now, Tommy.”

“Well, I’ve never been good for anyone so I figure that makes us just about right for each other.”

“There’s something kind of sad and pathetic about that,” Oliver said, but his eyes were only amused.

“I know, right?” Tommy felt a hundred pounds lighter, suddenly, like things were finally starting to make sense again even though probably they had only gotten more confusing. Oliver was still different and he still was keeping secrets and Tommy honestly couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that maybe he wanted Oliver in ways he shouldn’t, but he felt better anyway.

He also wanted to kiss Oliver again and again. “I’m gonna kiss you again,” he said.

“I think I’m cool with that,” Oliver said, and this time he was the one who leaned in. He paused just before their lips met, though, and said, his breath hot against Tommy’s face, “You really don’t have to make an announcement about it.”

“Okay,” Tommy agreed and lost the stream of his thoughts in the feel of Oliver’s mouth and Oliver’s hands.

Tommy Merlyn the walking cliché had a nice ring to it, he decided.

**_End_ **


End file.
